


Now That The World Isn't Ending

by arysa13



Series: prompts filled (bellarke) [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Haircuts, Humor, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:45:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7413730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After saving the world Clarke and Bellamy get Abby to cut their hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now That The World Isn't Ending

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: Basically after saving the world Bellamy and Clarke decide to visit the Arkadia Salon and get some haircuts as a way to start fresh! (Bobs hair is awful lately and Clarkes s3 hair was terrible) they need some hair makeovers! Bonus points if you throw in the nervousness of the others reaction/actually getting the haircut!
> 
> Happy birthday to the anon who gave me the prompt!

As Clarke has learned time and time again, saving the world, saving her people, isn’t exactly easy. She’s not sure what hurts more, her body, her head, or her heart. But at least it’s over now. There’s no one hunting them. There’s nothing threatening to blow up the world. There’s no imminent threat of death to keep at bay. Clarkes supposes she should feel relieved at the very least, but instead she just feels exhausted.

“Chin up, Clarke,” Bellamy tells her. He doesn’t even have to look at her to know her brow is creased and her lips form a tight line. “You’re a hero now,” he jokes, making her smile in the way that only he can, because he’s the only one who understands what she’s been through. The way he jokes about the terrible things that have happened, what they’ve done, the pain they’ve caused themselves and everyone around them, somehow make her feel a little better. She thinks it would probably shock anyone else, to hear him be so blasé about such things. She doesn’t expect anyone else to get it. She doesn’t need anyone else to.

“That’s me,” she snorts. “Just your average day saving the planet as one half of Earth’s most deadly superhero duo.”

“Calamitous Clarke and… Baneful Blake.”

“Why not Baneful Bellamy?”

“Baneful Blake sounds better.” The silence that follows is comfortable, as it always is between them, and Clarke is grateful they don’t always have to speak. She doesn’t like to be without him for long periods of time, but sometimes she doesn’t want to have to say anything. He gets that. He usually knows what she’s thinking anyway.

“Do you think we’re done?” Clarke asks finally.

“Yeah,” Bellamy responds, without having to ask what she means. Done with being leaders, done with having to constantly fight for their people, for their right to live.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to start fresh?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you believe that?”

Bellamy shrugs. “I want to.”

“Do you think we’ll ever get what we want?” He glances at her then, and he hesitates before speaking. It’s one of those rare moments they can’t quite tell what the other is thinking. Whether it’s just a throw away comment or if she means something more. Clarke isn’t totally sure herself.

“What do you want Clarke?” Bellamy asks, and Clarke meets his eyes. She’s pretty sure she knows what she wants, though it’s taken her long enough to figure it out. She thinks he probably feels the same way. It’s not like she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at her sometimes, like he’d follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked. She hopes he sees the same unwavering faith reflected in her eyes. Still, she’s not quite ready to tell him how she feels yet. Tomorrow maybe.

“A shower,” Clarke screws up her nose. Bellamy grins at her.

“Yeah, you could use one,” he agrees.

“Like you can talk, asshole!” Clarke scoffs light-heartedly. “I’ll see you later?” Bellamy nods and Clarke makes her way to the showers.

The warm water of the shower soothes her aching muscles slightly, and she scrubs at her face and body, trying to get rid of the dirt that almost seems a permanent part of her skin these days. She tries to run a hand through her hair, but her fingers just get tangled. She winces as she tugs at her hair, mostly just pulling long strands out and discarding them on the shower floor where they can clog up the drain. She hasn’t paid that much attention to her hair lately, foregoing her previous grounder braids and just tying it in a practical ponytail to keep it from her face. She hasn’t had it cut since she’s been on the ground, she’s always been far too concerned with saving her people to think about having someone cut it for her. She supposes she could have had it cut while she was lounging around in Polis, but then, Lexa had liked her with long hair.  But it’s so long now, and _heavy_ , and she hates it. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to wash her hair clean of the dirt and blood it’s been dragged through. And then she knows with complete certainty that she has to get rid of it.

She dries herself off from her shower and goes to see her mother in medical. It was always Abby who cut her hair on the ark, and Clarke can’t think of anyone else she would want touching her hair. (Well, except for Bellamy. But he doesn’t feel like the right person for this job).

“Mom?” Clarke says. Abby doesn’t seem overly busy, she’s just going through supplies aimlessly.

“Are you okay?” Abby asks, immediately worried.

“I’m fine, mom,” Clarke rolls her eyes. Abby seems to be even more concerned with her daughter’s welfare these days. Clarke can’t really complain, at least her mother is alive, and at least she cares. “I was just wondering… will you cut my hair?”

Abby smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Abby grabs a pair of scissors, while Clarke pulls up a chair. Abby strokes her daughters hair before gathering it up in one fist.

“You’re sure about this?” Abby confirms.

“I’m sure.”

“How much do you want me to cut?”

Clarke thinks for a moment. “I want to be able to feel the breeze on my neck,” she tells her mother.

“Okay,” Abby nods. She doesn’t start precisely, just hacks off the bottom of Clarke’s hair with the scissors to get rid of it, so it hangs in a jagged line just below her shoulders. Clarke closes her eyes, revelling in the loss of all that weight already. Abby runs a comb through Clarke’s hair, removing the tangles before gently and carefully snipping the hair to just below Clarke’s ears. The methodical sound of the scissors slicing through her hair is somehow soothing.

“Short enough?” Abby asks. Clarke runs a hand over what’s left of her hair, the feel of her bare neck surprising to her, even though she knows it’s there.

“Yeah,” Clarke says. It feels freeing to be rid of all that dead weight. Like a huge weight lifted off her shoulders, literally and metaphorically. And she knows it’s just hair, but maybe this is the fresh start she’s been so desperately hoping for.

“Let me see,” Abby says, walking around the chair to face her daughter. She brushes the strands framing Clarke’s face and smiles gently. “Beautiful.”

The two quickly turn their heads towards the door then as they hear footsteps approaching.

“I was wondering where you got to,” Bellamy says as he walks in. “I was wondering if you’re ready to eat…” It only takes him a second to notice Clarke’s new hair, and he freezes, staring at her with wide eyes. Clarke runs her hand over the back of her hair self consciously. What if he doesn’t like it? His stunned expression is enough to fill Clarke with doubts about her decision… maybe she should have got less cut off. But it’s just _hair_ , she reminds herself. It will grow back, and he’s not going to like her less just because she has short hair now. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t like it anyway. It’s _her_ hair. But despite her self assurances, she really _wants_ him to like it.

“You cut your hair,” he states.

“Yeah,” Clarke says nervously.

“It’s nice,” Bellamy says. “Suits you.”

“Yeah?” she smiles.

“Yeah,” Bellamy nods. He brings a hand to his own hair, pulling down the hair in front of his face so it covers his eyes. “I think I could use a hair cut too. What do you think?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Clarke smirks.

“Abby, would you do mine too? Please?”

“Of course, Bellamy,” Abby agrees. “Come and sit,” she gestures to the chair, and Clarke gets up so Bellamy can take her place.

“How short?” Abby asks.

“You can get rid of a lot so I don’t need another one for a while,” Bellamy grins.

“No!” Clarke protests. “Just a little bit. I like it long,” she says, blushing a little when Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her.

“Just a little bit,” Bellamy agrees. Clarke pulls up another chair and watches as Abby expertly cuts Bellamy’s hair.

“Well?” he asks, once Abby steps back to admire her handiwork. It’s not much different, but his curls are more distinct now that his hair isn’t so heavy and Clarke feels a rush of affection for him.

“You look cute,” she tells him.

“Cute?” he scoffs. Clarke barely notices her mother leaving the room wordlessly.

“Yeah, cute,” Clarke nods. “What did you want me to say?”

“Ruggedly handsome?” he suggests.

“I think cute suits you better,” Clarke smiles. There’s a soft silence and they just look at each other, and Clarke is struck by how in love with him she is. And maybe she didn’t want to face it before, when there was the possibility that they wouldn’t make it, when there was still the risk that she might lose him. But now she’s comforted by the fact that she loves him, and it’s a weird kind of relief to know that she’s still _capable_ of love, even after everything she’s been through.

“I’m hungry,” Bellamy says, standing up as he breaks the silence. “You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think I am.”


End file.
